


Counterfeit

by Leni



Series: Alternate Realities (Buffyverse) [3]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Alternate Reality, Episode: s02e14 Innocence, F/M, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:12:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Judge had attacked a day earlier?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counterfeit

It was too easy.

Angelus plucked another girl from the panicked crowd. Little thing, all pink and golden and loud. Her pleading screams drowned amongst the rest, and nobody cared that she was dragged away as long as their way to the mall exit remained clear.

Humanity at their rawest.

He hoped the Judge got indigestion.

“Hush,” he ordered, squeezing the delicate arm. The child tried to resist once more as he directed them into an empty passageway, but a punishing twist was enough to make her compliant.

“Please….”

“You should have run in the other direction,” he told her, pressing her against the wall with one arm across her chest. His other hand lazily flicked the blond hair out of the way. Her shirt had a low neckline, saving him the bother of rending cloth apart. Fashion in the new century made things easier. He liked that. “Where the Judge is, she will be. Invincibility be damned, nobody dies when she’s around. She’s soft-hearted like that.”

“Who?” the girl whispered, her voice tinny and hopeless.

Angelus smirked, patted her pale cheek. She wasn’t even trying to escape. The last one had at least made an attempt, right until his face changed and she’d fainted. He couldn’t decide which meal would prove more boring. “You’re trying for smart, but delaying won’t help. I need to move on. That moron makes a good distraction, but it won’t last long. Even on her own, she can figure him out.” The muscles of his face tensed and shifted; his fangs lowered until they grazed the inside of his lower lip.

That’s when his captive started to struggle.

“Perfect.” 

He admired the sight for a moment, allowed himself the pleasure of an awestruck fledging. The fear, the hopelessness, the desperate terror. After a century chained down, now that his belly was full and the taste of pig’s blood almost banished from his tongue, he deserved to indulge in a slow kill.

“Please let me go.” 

Reduced to weepy pleads now, this little girl had outlasted the enjoyment to be wrung from her. “I’m so sorry.” Angelus loosened his grasp, enough for the adrenaline to spike at the hope of escape. His grin widened. “You’re one day too late.”

Afterwards, it was easy to carry the body into a store, uncontested save for the remainder of people who were still rushing out of the danger. Nobody offered to help carry a passed out girl, and Angelus wondered how he’d ever been tricked into believing that these people deserved anything more than to die for his pleasure.

He left her draped over the counter of Buffy’s favorite clothing store, and was looking for the sweater she had modeled for him last week when he heard the blast.

That was sooner than he’d expected. “Damn,” he sighed, “I told that idiot not to trust legends.” He had also told Spike to lie down for the night, give him the chance to weaken the Slayer, kill the girl’s spirit and some of her friends while he was at it.

The stubborn whelp had been too impatient to wait. “Come on, Angelus. Sit back, wash out the stink of that soul,” he’d snickered, “Enjoy a welcome you’ll remember for eternity.”

Dear ol’ William. Always so eager to impress his betters. 

Angelus had argued some more, aware that turning the fight physical would be a joke with that wheelchair. If it got to that, he would have to dust Spike; surprisingly, he didn’t wish for that. He hadn’t wasted a century in needy loneliness just to stake the ones he’d groomed into decent companions. He had warned Spike one more time, then laughed at his insistence to escort Drusilla to the Judge’s debut. “What are you gonna do? Threaten to roll someone down?” 

Spike had shrugged. “I won’t always be in this wheelchair; but I won’t wait until then to hear your Slayer’s last breath. Besides –” He glanced at Drusilla. “I can’t leave my darling alone.”

Drusilla had demurred prettily at that, her act of a graceful damsel intact after all these decades, and then broken into a wicked smile before she stepped toward Angelus. “There’s space for one more,” she’d invited, a hand hovering over his chest. 

When he had declined Drusilla’s offer, she had pouted and tangled her arms around him. “But you can come to my room later and tell me the details,” he’d placated her, a hand going from her shoulder to scratch along the vein of her neck. He had taught her to love that caress, and she still leaned willingly into it, dismissing Spike’s growl with a giggle and a hand ruffling the short blond hair. Angelus had laughed along, and moved his hand to pat Spike’s back. “You won’t kill Buffy, but be a good boy and don’t let yourself be killed. I’d like this reunion to last some.”

Spike had rolled his eyes. The rest of his opinion had been swallowed by whatever respect he’d kept in store for his lover’s sire.

“Bet he’s stopped feeling as complacent,” Angelus mused now as he strolled up the stairs, pushing aside the humans who got in his way and unsurprised that, among the terrified crowd, vampires had joined in and were also running for their lives.

Buffy had that kind of effect.

“Angel!”

Ah. The sweet sound of a victim-to-be. “Hey, Willow.” He grinned down at the redhead, not bothering to hold back his intentions – and was puzzled when his hunger was met by the girl’s own angry scowl.

“Oh no. You don’t get to go growly because we came without you. _You_ disappeared. We thought you’d been stashed in that factory – or dusted by Spike!”

Angelus didn’t know whether he laughed at the silly assumption or at the unexpected reaction to his vampire face. He could reach out and choke the life out of little Willow; the girl had all but launched herself at him. But – what was a vampire without games to play? “I was at the factory,” he admitted, reverting to his human mask. Either Spike hadn’t boasted about the soul sailing away, or the ever optimistic children hadn’t believed him. Not that he could blame them, _he_ still had trouble believing it, and would be in a wicked mood if the soul attempted a comeback. Gypsy spells were tricky like that. “Couldn’t stop the Judge from coming tonight.” So far, all was true. He _had_ pushed for their new friend to out himself the next day. Now, for a little mournful touch – he’d excelled at them with a soul. “I’m sorry.”

Willow’s anger deflated. It was so easy that Angelus couldn’t help but wonder: would Buffy fall for the same trick? “It’s all right.” She bent down and picked a huge chunk of… blue? At her grin as she offered the piece to him, Angelus knew who those pieces had been. “You arrived just in time for the pickup. Word of warning: Buffy is super ticked off at you. Don’t tell her I caved so quickly?”

“Can’t help if I’m charming.”

Willow gave him a look. “Uh. Right….” Rather than flustered, she sounded taken aback. “Just… collect Judge parts and wait for your turn in Oz’s van.” At his look, she explained. “We’re splitting this guy into different places. With Cordelia’s car, too.” Her face darkened. “If she ever gets it here.”

Was that bitterness? Dare he say – with jealousy on top? Uh-oh. Somebody had been caught with his lips on the cheerleader. What great timing; any sooner and he might have found himself caring about the consequences for Buffy’s friends. 

Willow took a deep breath, “But we’re doing turns because, if they’re all in the same place…. Well, that’s what started this mess.” She shrugged her shoulders and started her way to another pile of blue-gray bits. Not two steps later, she gave him what passed for a warning glance over her shoulder. “And check with Buffy! Really, I think she’s more scared than angry.”

The Slayer, concerned on his behalf. Completely unaware that he was the enemy now.

“Sure, Willow.” 

That had possibilities.

Angelus looked down at his left hand, at the ring he’d detested that morning, but had kept nonetheless because of its power against that girl’s determination. Such wonderful devotion she’d showed as she put in on his finger – how could Buffy forget their love when he still wore the proof of it? A weapon that would still serve him well, should he choose to follow this sudden whim.

What was sweeter than snuffing out a girl’s first love? Using its strength. 

What was better than a dead Slayer? A Slayer who would die for him.

What was proper punishment for the woman who had helped him feel human? Take hers away, of course.

With an annoyed snarl, he wrenched the claddagh off again, put it back with the heart pointing in.

Let the games begin.

Ten minutes later, with one of the smaller pieces secure in his coat pocket, Angelus walked over to the group in the parking lot and dumped his share of Judge onto the sidewalk.

“Show off,” Xander muttered, looking at the much smaller mound he’d carried over.

“Whiner,” Angelus snapped back, ready to show the boy a lesson. He was stopped by an armful of Slayer, barreling into him so hard it almost toppled him over. Instinct dictated that he shove her away, but she beat him to it, pushing him hard and adding a closed fist to his chest that did make him stumble backwards. “What the hell!”

“Seconded.” At the wheel of her convertible, Cordelia shrugged off the others’ looks. “What? You were thinking it too.”

Buffy ignored the whispers, green eyes locked with his. “Where _were_ you?”

He could lash out, take a hostage and kill him before her eyes. Or he could play the part. “I thought I could talk Spike out of it.”

“You thought –” Buffy shook her head. “Why would he listen to you?”

Because, under all that bravado, Spike had always been a smart boy. Angelus shrugged. “Because Spike loves the limelight. The Judge would have taken it, along with all the credit for the victory.” He looked between the lumps of what had been a powerful demon half an hour before. “For all the five minutes it lasted.” He stepped closer to Buffy, grinned when she didn’t avoid his touch. He ran his hand from her shoulder to her neck, digging his nails in for an instant before he continued up to cup her chin. “I should have been there. I wanted to; I really did.”

Again, nothing but honesty. He had wanted to watch the Slayer take on the ancient demon, partly to poke fun at Spike for another failed plot, partly because he wanted to study how she fared without him covering her back.

But he had counted on at least another half hour of battle, not the ten minutes it had taken her to… do whatever she had done. He patted the small lump in his pocket, a pitiful fragment of the great dark warrior he’d met that morning. Hubris did not pay well around Buffy. “You bombed him out?”

She grinned. “Xander got me a rocket launcher for my birthday.”

“You’re welcome!” the boy shouted from the background, gasping between words. “And any time you’re finished scolding Dead Boy, come and help carry this stuff. Any time, really. Blue Wonder was _huge_.”

Buffy made to join her friends, but Angelus tightened his grasp. With a frown, she stared at him, but a small smile made her relax. “Does this mean my birthday gift is second best now?” he asked, laughing inwardly at the blush that arose at his words. “Should I try harder next time?”

“Angel! No… I mean, yes. Oh, God!” She gave him a helpless look. It suited her well. “Just…. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Of course, Buff.” He let her go. If he did this, there was one issue he needed to take care of. “One last thing –” He waited until she turned around. “- what happened to Spike and Dru?”

Her expression hardened. “They ran as soon as they saw my new toy. Well, he rolled. Very fast.”

It would have been easier if they’d been caught in the blast, but Angelus couldn’t bring himself to be disappointed. Even with a soul, he hadn’t been able to wish harm on those of his blood, not unless meted out by his own hand. He’d made them, molded them; be it for guilt or pride, they were his. 

“I see.”

He started his way out of the parkway. Behind him, Xander called out, “Hey, man. You really aren’t gonna help?”

“I’ll check out the area, make sure there are no bloodthirsty stragglers around, eager for the share of teenage blood Spike must have promised them,” Angelus retorted, his first lie of the evening. “You’ll help with that?” The boy paled and, unconsciously, stepped closer to Buffy. Angelus chuckled at the sight; Buffy’s protection wouldn’t last long. “Don’t worry, Xander. You won’t miss me for long.”

“What is _wrong_ with him?”

If anyone answered Xander’s complaint, Angelus soon was too far away to hear it.

Fifteen minutes later, Drusilla was again wrapped about him, a petulant look on her face. “But you just came back,” she whined, snapping off the shirt button second from the top. The first one had been squished and tossed away when he’d voiced his new plan. “And we’re just beginning the fun.” Her hand snaked under the open lapels, caressing and squeezing. “Who will bury the pigeons if you are gone?”

“Our boy is good with a spade.” Angelus took hold of her wrist, and guided her hand lower. The gesture had its expected effect, and the wheelchair squeaked closer. “What do you think, my dear William?”

A rose by any other name…. Obviously, the Bard hadn’t been familiar with human pride, not when it was left to stew for a century. Names mattered.

“It’s Spike,” the younger vampire growled, taking hold of his lover’s other hand and yanking her toward him. Drusilla pouted, but noticing that Angelus wasn’t about to reclaim her, turned a bright smile to her offspring and sat delicately on his lap. “And making a fool out of a Slayer when you could easily snap her neck,” he scoffed, “I don’t know who you are.”

Angelus kicked at one of the wheels, sending the couple backwards against the wall. Drusilla hadn’t had time to raise herself, when he was upon them. “I’m your master. I decide whether you continue your worthless existence or become one with the wind.” He grabbed at Spike’s shirt and hauled him closer. “I’ve been gone for a century, and you’re still no better than what I left. I know who _you_ are. ” He released his hold harshly, enjoying the sound of Spike’s body hitting the side of his wheelchair. Unbalanced, the whole contraption crashed down, a groaning vampire on top.

From behind, fabric rustled.

Whether Drusilla had meant to aid her paramour, or retire for the evening and leave her boys to their fun, Angelus didn’t care as he made a grab for her throat. “You will leave tonight.” Her hands came up to claw at him, but a severe glare stopped her. “Smart girl.” Deaf to Spike’s protests, Angelus pulled her up to kiss her cheek, then nip her lower lip. “I don’t want to see either of you until I’m done. Am I clear?”

As expected, Drusilla nodded obediently. Her eyes went upwards, staring at the ceiling for a long moment. “You’ll move the stars,” she whispered, and beamed. When he let her go, her arms shot up to thread around his shoulders, and she stole a kiss of her own. “You smell of murder and pain, and she still will run into you.” The tip of her nose dragged around his chin, until she was whispering in his ear, “Don’t we all?” She took his earlobe between her teeth, and when he hissed at the pain, added candidly, “When you kiss her, she wants to die.”

That startled a laugh out of Angelus. 

In recompense, he petted Drusilla’s hair even as he disengaged from her embrace. “Thank you for the reminder, beautiful.” He looked down at Spike, who’d propped himself against the wall and was glaring daggers up at him. “Buck up, boy. Like you said, you won’t stay in that wheelchair forever.” Going down on one knee out of Spike’s reach, Angelus smirked at the youngest of his line. “Just don’t force me to put you back there – or worse. After all, we are family.”

“Bugger off. You think we don’t know who offed Darla?”

Drusilla gave a whine of distress.

Angelus’ eyes narrowed. “She should have known better than to come against me. If she’d been a tad more patient –” He shook his head. Darla was dust, a price paid to keep Buffy around. An immortal in exchange for a teenage girl marked to die, what a waste. “I’ll balance the scales, don’t worry. And remember,” he smirked, “you hated her first.”

“Bitch deserved it.”

Angelus laughed and sprung to his feet. “Of course she did.” He already missed her. Without the Master around, they would have made the Hellmouth their own playground. But reality needed to be faced, and new players needed to be dealt with. “Don’t worry. Wherever she is, she will have her revenge.”

It was the least he could do.


End file.
